Under the Hood
by bxblover
Summary: Another significant Anderson-Hummel conversation occurs under the hood of a car. It's just not the people you'd expect. One-shot. Klaine.


Title: Under the Hood

Started: I've had the idea since May, but I haven't really made progress until recently.

Finished: 8/19/11 7:02 p.m.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or its respective characters.

* * *

><p>Kurt tapped his steering wheel anxiously as he drove through his boyfriend's neighborhood. He really hoped Blaine wouldn't be upset that he was so early, but anytime he played his Superstar playlist in the car he wound up getting a little gas-pedal happy. His anxiety only increased when he pulled up to the house and saw Blaine's car wasn't in the driveway. There was a car in the garage, an Audi A5 convertible if he wasn't mistaken, and the hood was up.<p>

He frowned at the familiar sight of coveralls, but he didn't recognize the man wearing them. He had his arms crossed, one hand holding a dirt rag. He was just staring intently at the car until out of the blue he lightly kicked one of the tires, making Kurt jump. He could only assume this man was Blaine's dad; he recalled that even though they rebuilt that Chevy together, Mr. Anderson was by no means a gear-head.

He gripped the wheel uncertainly. Blaine never had much to say about his dad, and what he _did_ say wasn't usually positive. Best Kurt could see, their relationship was a distant one; born of Mr. Anderson's homophobia no doubt. Kurt had met the rest of Blaine's family: his hilarious sister Denise, and his Waspish mother Sharon, and they both had liked Kurt instantly. But whenever he came over Blaine's dad was never at the house. Out on business, meeting some colleagues…fixing a damn car.

Kurt felt the familiar anger twitch at his heart, his sense-of-gay-justice alarm blaring as he thought to himself, not for the first time, that Mr. Anderson was avoiding the meeting just to stay in his little bubble of denial. As long as his son didn't have a boyfriend, there was still a possibility that he was straight. The hateful thoughts made Kurt's fists clench and it spurred him into action. He pulled into the driveway and looked up, noticing the curious stare Blaine's dad gave his car, but ignoring it. He adjusted his scarf, out of habit, and turned off his iPod before taking the key out and exiting his baby.

Curiosity turned into perplexity as Mr. Anderson watched him approach. With a calming breath Kurt reminded himself that homophobe or not, this was still Blaine's _dad_, and it would be best for everyone if they got off on the right foot. So he summoned his most charming grin (Blaine would be proud) and used his best 'young man of culture' voice: "Mr. Anderson?"

The man turned to face Kurt directly and right away he saw the resemblance to Blaine. His skin was a bit more pallid, his eyes were ice-blue, and he was quite tall, but that face; their features were almost identical, even though Mr. Anderson's were sharpened with age. Not to mention the hair. It was gelled in the exact same style. Even their part was in the same place. It bothered Kurt for a moment, realizing how likely it was that Blaine styled his hair that way just to emulate this tightwad that was supposed to be his father.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

"Oh no, thank you, I'm just here to see Blaine."

His thick brows furrowed and he started wiping his hands with the rag. "Blaine? He's not here at the moment. W-who are you, exactly?"

"I'm Kurt Hummel." He extended his hand and grinned broadly for effect. "Blaine's boyfriend. It's nice to finally meet you, sir."

Mr. Anderson's eyes widened in realization, and he stared at Kurt, giving him a full once-over. He was taking a little more time than was appropriate, but the young teen wasn't worried. He could only imagine what sort of images this man might have conjured up about him, especially if Blaine talked about Kurt as much as Kurt talked about Blaine, which he suspected was the case.

Mr. Anderson finally fixed his nervous stare on Kurt's extended hand, hesitating to shake it. He worked his jaw a few times, apparently trying to think of the right thing to say, and scratched at the only stain on his otherwise pristine coveralls. Then he visibly brightened, like he suddenly realized something. He held up his hand and shrugged sheepishly, displaying the grease and oil on his palm by way of explanation. He then shoved his hand into his pocket. It actually wasn't in bad shape; in fact it looked similar to Burt's hands _after_ he had wiped them down with a rag.

But Kurt nodded and obediently pulled his hand back, well aware that Mr. Anderson's reasons for not wanting to shake his hand probably had very little to do with motor oil. It twisted his stomach a little, but he maintained his bright smile. _For Blaine_, he told himself.

Mr. Anderson cleared his throat uncomfortably and hitched his thumb towards the door that must have led inside the house. "Um…y-you can go ahead and wait for Blaine inside. I-I've got to fix this damn heap anyway." He hastily walked over to his workbench and fretfully took a swig from a bottle of Coke.

The countertenor tilted his head and surveyed the engine. "Oh? What are you working on?"

Blaine's dad waved a hand dismissively, not even looking at him. "Oh just some car stuff; you wouldn't be interested."

Kurt's brow rose and his nostrils flared in reaction to the rude assumption. It was a common misconception people had about him, but this was different; this was Blaine's _dad_ assuming that he was some sort of gay stereotype just because he was wearing nice clothes. It was a rather low blow, especially coming from the only male Kurt had ever seen look _uncomfortable_ in coveralls, but he kept his anger in check. _It's no different than those narrow-minded jocks at school; just use your words_.

"Well what's wrong with it," he prodded further.

"I-it's no big deal." He hastened to assure Kurt, gesturing broadly to the engine with his free hand and avoiding eye-contact. _Anything to get me out of here, huh? _"It's just the heater isn't at its best. Or the…air conditioner. And the lights. And sometimes it won't start either, but I'll figure out what's wrong eventually." He cleared his throat again. "Like I said, you can go ahead and wait in the house. I'm sure Blaine will be back any minute."

Kurt grinned, almost to himself, and crossed his arms, making sure to keep the smug tone out of his voice. "Oh. …Well if your electronics are acting up it sounds to me like you've got a problem with the battery terminal."

Blaine's dad paused for a minute, and did a double-take. "Excuse me?"

Kurt didn't even ask, just walked over to the car and inspected the battery. "Oh yeah. It's corroded, and it looks like one of these clamps is loose too. All we've got to do is clean it off and you should be up and running in no time." He looked over at the taller man and smiled politely. "I could give you a hand."

Mr. Anderson just stared at him skeptically. "Uh…I suppose."

The countertenor rolled up his sleeves and flung the ends of his scarf behind his neck. Mr. Anderson watched as he bent over the engine again. "You really don't seem like the _car_ type," he said quietly. Kurt had to strain to hear him. But he had heard him, and he was frowning back at the older man before he could restrain himself.

Blaine's dad at least had the decency to look embarrassed by what he'd said. He held up his hands in surrender. "No offense."

Kurt looked him up and down deliberately, pausing at the gelled hair and the $200 Hugo Boss shoes adorning his feet under the coveralls. He then met blue eyes in a bold stare.

"No offense…neither do you."

He turned back to the engine. Normally he wouldn't say something so brazen when he was trying to come off as a polite young man, but Mr. Anderson was sorely trying his patience. There was a _very_ quiet gasp behind him, and it made him smile privately in satisfaction. He hadn't been rude…not exactly, and had only spoken his piece, so no harm was done. And besides, if nothing else he could take solace in the fact that Blaine would have enjoyed that one.

Once Kurt had the loose clamp free he reached into his coat pocket and took out his multi-tool. As he pulled out the blade and began expertly scraping it against the clamp, he felt the bemused eyes on him. He didn't want to get into an argument, so he just changed the subject. "My dad owns Hummel Tire and Lube in Lima. I was practically raised in the shop. Can you hand me a 7/16th wrench?"

The well-organized workbench told him that it shouldn't have taken very long to find what he needed, but it quickly became apparent just how unfamiliar Mr. Anderson was with his tools. When at last he held out a wrench there was a question in his eyes. The countertenor nodded as he took the wrench and set about loosening the other clamp.

There was a quiet pause as he worked, only interrupted by the tinkering of the wrench and the sloshing of Mr. Anderson's Coke, until eventually he heard a light tapping on the hood of the Audi.

"Blaine didn't mention that you were into cars."

The teen grinned over his shoulder. "In your son's defense, I'm a man of many interests. It can be hard to keep up." He heard a resigned laugh as he straightened and started cleaning the other clamp.

"Eh…I think it has more to do with Blaine's distaste for cars," Mr. Anderson finished lamely.

"Oh well that can't be it," he stated cheerily, keeping his eyes on the clamp in his fingers. "Almost every time he comes to the shop he asks if he can try his hand at fixing whatever we've got!"

He heard the Coke sloshing behind him again as Blaine's dad moved to his other side. "Really?"

"Yeah. It seems like he retained a lot of information from building that Chevy."

"I…didn't even think he remembered that."

The countertenor laughed and set the clamp down. "Well he clearly remembered more than you. All that's left is the corrosion on the terminal."

Mr. Anderson stared at the car like it was a black hole. "Uh…okay."

Kurt just rolled his eyes. "If you give me that rag I can take care of this in no time." He looks down and jerks his chin towards the pop bottle. "And the Coke."

Blaine's dad frowned, holding the bottle away from himself and looking at it like it was about to turn into power tool. He looked up helplessly at the boy. "What?"

"May I use the pop? Please?"

Mr. Anderson shrugged and handed over the pop and the dirt rag. Kurt nodded and leaned over the engine, carefully pouring the Coke on the battery terminal and watching as it started to bubble.

"Whoa!" Blaine's dad rushed to his side to watch, staring at the bubbling corrosion like a little kid witnessing a magic trick.

Kurt just giggled. "My dad showed me how to do this when I was twelve. But we've been working on cars together for as long as I can remember. There, now we've just gotta let it sit for a minute."

The two men turned away from the car, stuck staring at each other awkwardly. Mr. Anderson made a move to scratch the back of his head, but he saw the grease on his hand and just wiped it on his coveralls. "So…has it been hard to adjust? You know, with you and your dad?"

It was probably the first fair question the man had asked, and surprisingly sensitive, despite its directness. Kurt shook his head. "Not exactly. If anything it's brought us closer; he's been wholly supportive since I came out." He smirked. "But to be fair, he said he'd known I was gay since I was three." He looked back up into icy eyes. "When did you know? About Blaine?"

Blaine's dad moved to lean against the edge of the car, shrugging uncomfortably. "Well he…came out…in middle school."

The countertenor nodded. "And you had a sneaking suspicion in the back of your mind since…?"

Mr. Anderson blinked at him a minute before laughing wryly. "Since he was eight. He came home from school one day, all excited, saying he saw the prettiest boy in class, and that he hoped they would be partnered up for an upcoming science project." He missed Kurt's smile at the image, forging on as if the memories were feeding him the words. "I was hoping that it was just a phase. Bad enough that Blaine and I are so different, but this would take away the only thing we had in common. Then he came out and I just…we're practically strangers."

He happened to glance up, blushing as he realized that he hadn't meant to reveal so much, and Kurt's eyes were narrowed in confusion. That didn't sound like the usual rant from the homophobic father of a gay son. "So…you tried to make Blaine straight because you wanted to have something in common again?"

Mr. Anderson frowned, equally confused. "No! Blaine is the way he is. I'm not thrilled about it, but I know I can't change it."

"Then…why did you build the Chevy with him?"

"I was trying to find something we could both bond over for a change! It didn't turn out so well when all I realized at the end of the summer was that I hate cars."

Kurt thought to himself for a minute. He was actually starting to feel sympathetic as he realized what the real problem was. Mr. Anderson wasn't a homophobe. He just mistakenly assumed that Blaine being gay would somehow force them further apart, when in actuality that only happened because Mr. Anderson let it. Blaine had told Kurt about his dad's half-hearted yet numerous attempts at bringing Blaine's interests to more masculine pursuits than musical theater: assembling furniture, going on hiking trips, fishing trips. All activities they inferred as Mr. Anderson trying to make his son straight, when really they were probably just more broken attempts at finding something that could be shared as father and son. The countertenor suddenly wanted a hug from his own dad. Sure, they didn't have a lot in common, but they loved each other enough to try, and they were always a part of each other's worlds. Blaine's dad was just going about this bonding thing the wrong way. As far as his son's sexuality, he was just uneducated.

"What do you mean 'for a change,'" he asked gently, and bent down under the hood again, using the rag to wipe away the Coke residue. Blaine's dad moved out of his way.

"Just…I'm a lawyer, a partner in a law firm no less. I dig sports, and science and logic…and Blaine's…you know, he's into that creative, artsy stuff. He likes his singing and dancing and—"

"There's more to Blaine than his passion for the performing arts," Kurt interrupted, smiling to himself at the breakthrough. "For example, he loves sports too."

"…He does?" Mr. Anderson's voice had a slight lilt of hopefulness, and he leaned closer to see if Kurt was being serious.

"We'll need some water to clean this off. And another rag," he said pleasantly. "And yeah, of course he does. Especially football. Haven't you ever noticed the Buckeyes flags on his wall? Or the red and white football on his dresser?"

Blaine's dad was frozen in place.

"I…don't think I have."

The countertenor grinned at the flabbergasted expression on the eerily familiar face. "The water," he repeated, and Mr. Anderson shook himself and nodded, going over to the fridge in the corner and grabbing a bottle of water.

Kurt continued talking as he used the water to rinse off the mess. "Okay, now you know you both love sports. That's a very broad subject."

Blaine's dad still looked a little thrown; he was blinking rapidly, and his mouth was hanging open. "Well sure, but we can't just talk about sports for the rest of our lives."

"True, but it's a fabulous place to start. And _as_ you start talking you can ask about each other. Who knows, maybe you'll find something else you have in common. And if it turns out you don't well…as the parent, don't you think it's your job to take an interest in…his interests?"

The man blushed and he seemed particularly focused on his shoes. "I know it is."

Kurt bit his lip, realizing he probably overstepped his boundaries a little. He hastened to mollify Mr. Anderson as he wiped the battery dry and started fastening the clamps back on.

"Look, you tried to find a middle ground, and that's not a bad thing. But the only way you'll have a real connection is if you take from the things that you already love as individuals. Damn, sometimes I think the _only_ thing my dad and I have in common is cars. But every day he makes the effort, and I know that he supports me. How did glee club go today, what's Blaine up to, that's a great outfit…" He trailed off with a smile. _Yeah, dad's definitely getting a hug when I get home_. He saw the unsure expression on Mr. Anderson's face and smiled sympathetically. "It's easier than it looks. Just…talk to him. Ask him questions. That'll get you started."

Blaine's dad blinked and sighed, his mouth curving into a half-smile. "Well, it certainly can't hurt."

"That's right. And…just for the record, you might want to make it clear to Blaine that you're okay with him being gay." The aged man's brows furrowed, and the countertenor waved his hand emphatically. "Trust me."

Mr. Anderson blinked in worry, but he nodded, realizing what Kurt meant.

"Okay!" He smiled in triumph and pulled the hood down. "That should do it. Why don't you start it up, see how it behaves?"

Blaine's dad brightened and grabbed his keys from the workbench. He slid into the driver's seat, and inserted the key. The Audi instantly thrummed to life, and Mr. Anderson's blue eyes widened.

"It…it works!" He said with delight, and reached for the dash, adjusting the air-conditioning and heating and even turning on the lights. "You fixed it! I can't believe it, you fixed it," he cheered, drumming his hands against the steering wheel. He jumped out of the car and stared at the bright, bright headlights. "Kurt that was…that was amazing!"

The teen grinned "Oh it was my pleasure. And hey, if you ever need more work done, you can always come to the store; we'd be happy to give you a hand."

"Well if your dad can do half the job you can, I think I could become a regular customer!" Blaine's dad nodded in approval and turned to face the countertenor. "Thank you Kurt," he said meaningfully.

His smile was so wide it crinkled the edges of his bright blue eyes. But they weren't icy anymore; the warm sincerity in his voice melted away the guarded expression, and Kurt knew the gratitude wasn't just about the car. His heart thudded with pride as he smiled back. "You're welcome."

They both turned around at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Kurt continued smiling when he saw it was Blaine's. As his boyfriend stepped into the garage his hazel eyes widened with surprise.

"Kurt? What are you doing here?"

He bit his lip sheepishly, remembering how early he had been. "I was listening to my Superstar playlist and I got a little…speedy. It's perfectly alright though, I was just helping your dad with the Audi."

Blaine's eyes widened further, and he glanced from his boyfriend to his dad, and back again.

Mr. Anderson actually grinned at his son as he turned off the car. "Your boyfriend's got quite a knack for this, Blaine. We'll have to call him the next time your mom's baby acts up."

Blaine only looked further confounded at the camaraderie between the two males. "Y-yeah, he's great. He's helped me with mine a lot. Uh…Kurt, we can go ahead and get going if you want. Mercedes won't mind if we're there a bit early, right?"

"Are you kidding, she'll be thrilled!" He made a move to put his sleeves back in place, but caught sight of all the grime and pop on his fingers. "Um…I just need to wash my hands."

"Oh, well you can use the sink right there Kurt. I'll just head inside and get my shower," Mr. Anderson said amiably, and bit his lip, pausing for a moment before he extended his hand. "It was nice to finally meet you too."

Kurt smiled, and shook the hand he was offered, feeling their palms slide against each other through the grease and oil and soda. "The pleasure was all mine Mr. Anderson."

"Jonathon, please," he said with a wink, Kurt's eyes rounded. He probably would have teared up if Blaine wasn't standing there. As it was he just cleared his throat and walked over to the small sink by the fridge.

"Hey, Blaine, um…do you have plans tomorrow?"

The countertenor's ears pricked up like a cat, and he struggled to listen over the splashing water.

"I don't think so. Why, is something wrong?"

"N-no, not at all. I was just…I was wondering if you wanted to watch the game tomorrow," Jonathon asked in a rush.

Blaine paused, and Kurt whipped around, his hands were dripping but he didn't care at the moment. His boyfriend's brows were furrowed and he looked uncertain as he stared at his father. "T-the game? The Buckeyes game? With you?"

"I-if you don't want to, that's fine I—"

"No, no, I'd…I'd love to dad," Blaine told him, the happiness in his voice overriding the surprise.

"Great. I-I'll see you tomorrow then." Jonathon smiled broadly at his son, then bit his lip and hurried towards the door. "Well I've got to get that shower, but have fun tonight boys. Be safe, alright," he warned, passing an asking look to the younger teen, who smiled in approval.

Then the door shut, and Kurt and Blaine were left alone with the Audi.

"Shall we?"

(Asterisk)

As Kurt slid the keys into the ignition of his baby, his boyfriend placed a hand on his leg. "Did everything go…I mean…was he nice?"

"He was fine," the paler boy assured him, and turned his iPod back on. "So you guys are watching the game tomorrow then?"

The ex-soloist laughed and settled into his seat. "I guess so. Wow, we haven't watched a game together since…God, I can't even remember. We've just been so…distant."

The countertenor stared at Blaine's eyes, hazy with saddened nostalgia, and reached over to take his hand. "I'm sure that will change very soon Blaine."

They shared a smile, and the older teen squeezed his hand. He didn't quite know what went on between his boyfriend and his father, but he had a very good feeling that the ex-Warbler was right. "Thank you Kurt."

He didn't respond, only bit his lip and glanced upwards.

"Kurt?"

His pale boyfriend untangled a hand to run it through his hair. He had gotten up late and didn't have time to gel his hair. "Have I ever told you how sexy your hair is when you let it curl like this?"

The older teen's breath hitched as Kurt sensually twirled his fingers around a curl. "Really?"

The brunette hummed with approval and his eyes darkened, continuing to stroke through the thick hair. "Oh yes. It's much better than that crunchy, gelled look. And if I hold it like this," Kurt's hand fisted in the curls and yanked him across the driver's side, making him gasp. "I can kiss you however I want."

"Uhh…"

"Does this mean I'll get to grab onto some curls in the future Blaine," he whispered deeply, his breath hot against Blaine's ear as his other hand slid up a sculpted chest.

"Why wait?"

FIN

* * *

><p><strong>Title's so original right? ;-P<strong>

**I have to confess, what I know about cars wouldn't fit on a dipstick. I had to do a lot of research for this one, just so it would be at least halfway decent, and I apologize to any car fans out there if I've completely messed up, but I tried my best! Honest! I've used Denise in the past, but my stories are all separate pieces, so no worries. I tried to put a lot of thought into this one, and I'm not saying it's my best, but I'd love to hear what you guys think! :D**

**Oh! PS, I got my four-year-old-niece in love with Glee, and her favorite character is Kurt. She especially loves singing Rose's Turn. I recently showed her Teenage Dream for the first time, and as she's watching it she says 'Kurt looks really happy doesn't he, Aunt Mag? He's a happy little thing!' X3 X3 X3**


End file.
